


Back To The Start

by solversonlou



Category: Redwater (TV 2017)
Genre: Backstory, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Cousin Incest, Incest, M/M, Prequel, butchering of irish slang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solversonlou/pseuds/solversonlou
Summary: A prequel to Redwater, exploring Andrew and Kieran's relationship and lives over the years.
Relationships: Kieran Harrington/Andrew Kelly
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Back To The Start

Never see one without the other. 

That's what their family always said, along with the rest of Redwater. 

Andrew and Kieran, two peas in a pod, ever since they were little. Even more so after... well, what had happened. The thing that left Kieran with nightmares and Andrew wanting to forget it ever happened. 

They were just kids.

They'd slept in the same bed for a while, Kieran bugging his mum about staying round Aunty Roisín's, hiding the fact that he just wanted to be close to Andrew. 

It made him feel safe, laying next to him, hearing him breathing. Sometimes he'd wake up, terrified, and Andrew would put his arms around him and hold him, let him cry against his chest, all the while telling him it was going to be okay.

\- - -

Kieran is thirteen when his mum starts talking about moving to America. It scares him initially. The thought of going somewhere so far away, starting anew. But then he thinks of everything that's happened. 

Redwater has so many bad memories. He tells Andrew this when they're sitting in the back garden of his house, the two of them side by side, Kieran picking at grass and Andrew with a worried expression.

"But we'll never see each other," Andrew says, forcing down the lump in his throat. 

"I know," Kieran says, voice softer, a hand reaching out gently, resting it gently on top of Andrew's.

Turning to him, Andrew can't help the tears that brim in his eyes. With anyone else, he'd feel like such a wuss. The lads on his football team would laugh at him, but not Kieran. Sure, the two of them would mess around, play fight and what not, but Kieran would never judge him.

Twining their fingers together, Kieran squeezes Andrew's hand, reaches another one out, fingertips light against Andrew's cheek. He wipes away a tear that falls with his thumb.

Neither of them realise how close they've gotten, how their shoulders are touching, not until they hear Kieran's mum calling for them and they jolt apart quickly, like they're suddenly aware of their proximity.

They're just going to miss each other, that's all. They're cousins. Best friends. They've been through so much.

Neither of them understand exactly what that pull in their chests was, not quite yet.

\- - -

Kieran is going away soon. 

Andrew meets Bernie at school. She's a nice girl, got a bit of a spark in her. He likes her, he really does. They're not dating. Andrew's too scared to ask her out.

Kieran likes her too. She's suited to Andrew, keeps him in check. Only, Kieran finds himself spending less time with Andrew because of this newfound dynamic, and it upsets Kieran, probably more than it should. He keeps it well hidden around her, though. 

It's only when he's with Andrew one afternoon, a few weeks before he's set to leave, does he mention it. It's an offhand comment. Something about how Andrew's too busy with his girlfriend to think about his cousin who'll be gone soon.

Andrew gets angry. It's not often that they fight, but he doesn't like Kieran's tone. Doesn't like the implication that he doesn't care about him, that he's somehow forgotten about the bond they have. How could he ever forget? He'd pulled Kieran out of the water a couple of years back. He'd never forget.

He shoves Kieran.

Kieran is baffled at first, but then he flares up, shoving Andrew back twice as hard, until they're both tussling, knocking each other to the floor of Kieran's bedroom.

They're lucky their mothers are too busy packing away the stuff in the shed to hear the thuds, to witness the struggle as Kieran is pinned to the carpet and Andrew holds him down.

"Get off me!" Kieran kicks out, long limbs flailing, his recent growth spurt giving him a few inches on Andrew.

Only, Andrew is stronger, plays sports whilst Kieran reads books. 

"Take it back," Andrew hisses, gripping Kieran's wrist with a strength he's never used on him before. Not since he'd pulled him out of the water. "Take it back, Kier!"

Kieran stills beneath him, inhaling sharply, brow furrowed as he looks up at the boy he's known his whole life. The boy who'd been there for him for as long as he can remember. The boy he's going to lose so soon.

He chokes back a sob, eyes filling with tears, and Andrew releases his grip on his wrists, eyes wide, like he's just realised that he's hurting him. 

Andrew shifts, palm moving to Kieran's cheek, and it was like it had been over a year ago, when they were sat in the garden.

_Oh._

Neither of them are sure who initiates the kiss, only that Kieran's fingers are curling into the neck of Andrew's shirt, and he's leaning up as Andrew leans down, their lips pressing together. 

It's awkward, like any kiss between two teenagers, short lived and noses bumping.

But, _oh._ They know now. They get it. What they'd felt before in the garden. It all falls into place.

They pull apart quickly, when the stairs creek and they hear their mothers voices, squabbling about something to do with parcel tape being different to sellotape.

Kieran scrubs at his eyes with his sleeves, back turned to the door, Andrew on his feet, clutching Kieran's trophy he'd gotten for a writing competition at school, one they'd knocked down in the tussle.

"Have you been having a fight?!" Roisín asks, seeing the mess of Kieran's room and the boy sitting down, wiping at his cheeks. "Andy, what have you been saying to the poor lad?"

Kieran turns around, shaking his head, "It's alright, Aunty. I just got upset over something stupid. It wasn't Andrew's fault. He was helping me clean up."

Eileen exhales, voice soft, "Oh, you sweetheart, Andy! C'mon, boys, both of yous, come here. Come on. Group hug."

Roisín gives her sister a disapproving look, never one for familial affection. She can't remember the last time she gave Andrew a hug, come to think of it. 

Rising to his feet, Kieran and Andrew lock eyes for a moment, the knowledge of what had really just happened hanging between them. 

_Christ, what a mess._

They know they can't say anything.

Eileen pulls them into an awkward hug, and they try not to touch at all, as if doing so would make it all far too real.

\- - -

They avoid each other up until Kieran is packed and ready to leave.

Roisín drives them to the airport, Kieran and Andrew in the backseat with space between them. She seems to notice something is off, but she doesn't say anything. 

Eileen blubbers like a baby when they say goodbye, throwing her arms around Roisín, who admittedly is emotional, she just doesn't show it as much. 

Kieran and Andrew don't say much, just stand together, a few odd words between them. 

"Send me a postcard, cuz," Andrew says, avoiding too much eye contact. "And don't go too American. I don't want you coming back saying things like cookies and soda."

Kieran laughs, and Andrew can't help but look at him then, and it's like everything comes flooding all at once. The joy he gets from being around him. The way he'd felt when Kieran had kissed him. The fear of losing him. Never seeing him again.

Andrew pulls him into a hug. 

Kieran is stiff at first, arms at his sides. He hadn't been expecting it. They had barely touched in two weeks. 

But then his eyes are closing, and he's throwing his arms around Andrew, squeezing him tight, the weight of him a welcome warmth against him.

"I'll miss you," Kieran whispers, lips close to Andrew's ear.

Andrew inhales, nose pressed into Kieran's shoulder, "I'll miss you, too."

"Aw, look at our boys," Eileen sniffs, wiping away a tear as she watches the scene play out before her. 

Roisín tilts her head, eyes squinting a little, "Yeah. Two peas in a pod, huh?"

\- - -

Kieran sends him a postcard a month after he arrives.

It's a black and white picture of New York, and it takes a while to get to Ireland, but it's worth the wait.

Andrew grins as he reads it, laughs out loud at the mention of soda and cookies.

He pins it to the cork board in his bedroom above his desk.

\- - -

They keep in touch over MSN, but the timezone difference makes it difficult. When Andrew's at school, Kieran's at home.

Andrew goes on his Myspace, sees the pictures he uploads, the people he puts in his top friends. He's happy for him, but there's a tug, a pull in his stomach. _That should be me_ , he thinks, looking at pictures of pretty, tan girls and bleach blonde boys.

He wonders if Kieran has a girlfriend. 

He shouldn't be concerned if he does. Afterall, Andrew is thinking of asking out Bernie. They've only been on a few dates, mostly ending in Bernie being annoyed with him for being immature, but he can tell he's slowly breaking away her exterior.

Kieran is busy and the dial-up connection in Redwater is pretty bad, so Andrew mostly messages him at school then checks the next day for a response.

He has the odd phone call with him at home, but Eileen and Roisín end up spending most of the time talking to each other. It costs a bomb for long distance in their area.

So they speak less and less, and Andrew begins to focus on his life in Redwater. 

Bernie lets him go out with her, properly this time. 

They date for a few years, on and off, breaking up every now and then, but their parents always tell them they'll end up back together, and they always do.

Andrew wonders sometimes if Kieran will come back. If he even wants to. _What will happen if he does?_ Will he have forgotten about what had gone on between them?

It makes Andrew feel a little sick, the thought of Kieran forgetting it. He hasn't forgotten. He should and he's tried, but he can't.

He stays with Bernie for a solid five months without breaking up, and he's starting to think maybe this could be a long term thing.

\- - -

Andrew is seventeen when he hears Kieran's voice again.

It's different, much different. He sounds like a full blown American now and it's so jarring, but it's still Kieran. He's speaking to him on the phone, his own mobile now, a better data plan than the family one, and Kieran sounds so... happy, like he's blossomed into someone so much more confident.

Andrew feels so... common in comparison, still with the same Irish accent, still working on the fields after school, not much education behind him.

"It's so good to hear your voice," Kieran says, and Andrew can hear the smile down the phone. He's seen pictures of him on Facebook, the way his jaw has squared and his eyes crease at the corners when he smiles now. "You and Bernie still going good?"

Andrew inhales sharply. Oh, right. Bernie. His just-told-him-she's-two-months-pregnant girlfriend Bernie. He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly nervous, "Uh, yeah, she uh... we actually have some good news. Well, mam didn't think it was good at first, but..."

There's a slight pause, and Andrew wonders if the connection has dropped for a moment. He sort of wishes it had.

It's followed by laughter, hearty laughter. Kieran still sounds slightly Irish when he's laughing, and it eases Andrew's anxiety just a little, "Well, well, well! Looks like you've been getting busy, cuz!"

 _Cuz._ The familial wording. Of course. They're family, Andrew reminds himself. Strictly platonic.

"Yeah," Andrew chuckles, scratching the newly grown stubble under his chin. "I guess so. What about you? I bet all the American chicks are throwing themselves at you."

Kieran's laughter dies down and Andrew wonders again if he's said something wrong. There's a slight pause before Kieran speaks, "Uh, have you been on Facebook lately, buddy?"

 _Buddy._ Another Americanism.

"Not in a few weeks, no," Andrew says, picking at his bottom lip. He swallows. "Why? You engaged?"

"Would be if it was legal," Kieran chuckles, trying to break the tension. There's another pause. Andrew's cogs turn in his brain just as Kieran speaks. "I, uh. I'm actually seeing a guy right now."

"Oh," Andrew says. It makes sense, he supposes. Absolute sense, actually. He'd just thought that just because they'd... because he himself wasn't... that meant Kieran also maybe wasn't. He swallows, realises he hasn't really said anything. "Oh well, that's grand!"

There's a small exhale of what sounds like relief from Kieran's end, followed by a very American, "Well thanks, buddy! I thought everyone back home would have known by now. I did put it on Facebook, like I said."

"Ah, well, mam has no clue how to work that thing," Andrew says. "I'm surprised your mam didn't blab about it, though."

"Ah, mom's been far too busy with her new fancy man," Kieran laughs. "You should tell Aunty Roisín about him. He's a banker."

"Oh, she'll hate that," Andrew chuckles, all the tension in his chest floating away, replaced with a blooming warmth. 

Christ, he's missed him.

\- - -

Andrew proposes to Bernie just before he turns eighteen.

She's six months pregnant at this point, and both her and his family have been badgering him since she'd found out about her pregnancy to propose, but it's better late than never. Better before she actually gives birth as well. Can't have a baby out of wedlock. Not in Ireland and certainly not in Redwater.

Pretty hypocritical considering half of what goes around there, but needs must be met.

Andrew's dad is setting up the stag. A bit weird, he supposes, but it isn't like there's many eighteen year olds still stuck in Redwater. It seems to be just him, Bernie and Dermot. And Dermot's training to be a priest, so it isn't like he's gonna be much fun.

They're all having dinner at his parent's kitchen table when his nan asks him if he's thinking of inviting Kieran to the stag do. 

"Well, he's obviously invited to the wedding," Andrew says, clearing his throat a little. He takes a sip of water. "So, I suppose so? It depends on if he's busy with University."

"Ah, he should be paying for us to go over to Vegas," Pádraig jokes, swirling his beer around. "That'd be a laugh, ay? All those strippers? No offense, ladies."

Andrew grimaces a little at his father's words. He's well meaning and usually a bit more respectful, but all this wedding stuff has got him excited. Roisín is less impressed, blinking languidly, wine glass in hand.

"I don't think our Kieran would be interested in the strippers," Roisín says, a tone of disapproval to her voice. She takes a long sip of wine as the atmosphere grows a little awkward.

Andrew clears his throat, "Yeah, well. There'll be no strippers here. Just the pub and a few sausage rolls, I'm hoping."

Bernie smiles, rubbing her bump, squeezing Andrew's leg with her other hand gently. 

He gives her a small smile before shifting the conversation back, "Actually, I think Kieran's term doesn't start until October. He might be able to make it."

\- - -

Andrew isn't expecting the wind to be knocked out of his chest when he sees Kieran again.

He knew it would be significant, that he'd feel something, but not this. Not on this scale.

"Hey, cuz," Kieran grins, eyes creasing at the corners, and Andrew finds himself silent, uselessly blinking at him as he approaches him outside the airport. "Long time, no see."

He's tall, taller than Andrew remembers. Somehow blonder. So much more mature, filled out. He's not exactly broad, but he's fit, slim and athletic. 

Andrew swallows, realises he hasn't said anything yet as Kieran wraps an arm around him, the other holding onto his luggage.

A little belatedly, Andrew raises an arm, squeezes it around Kieran's back. He can feel the difference in his shoulders, the width of them, the way his back dips. He tries not to, but his nose brushes Kieran's shoulder, the scent of some no doubt expensive aftershave on his neck. 

Pulling back, Andrew's grinning, a little breathless as he speaks, "Christ, you're like something out of a J.D. Salinger novel."

Kieran's eyes light up, head tilting a little, smiling, "Oh, so you've read more than just The Hungry Caterpillar since I've been gone?"

Andrew shakes his head, laughs, gives Kieran a playful jab in the ribs, "Less of that craic, you! Fancy boy, swanning back here and already being a dick."

Kieran dodges his jab, chuckling, plants a hand on Andrew's shoulder, squeezing it as they begin to walk side-by-side, "So, where's the cab? Or have they let you drive now you're a big boy?"

"Hey, I'm licensed to drive a tractor, I'll have you know," Andrew says, walking alongside the boy... no, the man he's gone so long without seeing. He guides him somewhat, towards the car park, an arm around Kieran's side, holding onto him. 

"Well, I hope that's not what you're taking me home in," Kieran jokes. "These shoes cost a thousand dollars."

"You're taking the piss!" Andrew exclaims.

"Yeah, I am," Kieran laughs.

\- - -

They catch up, just the two of them, over drinks at the local pub after Kieran is settled in the spare room at Aunt Roisín's. 

Kieran tells him about New York, about all the people he's met, the places he's been. He tells him about what he's studying, about how he wants to maybe teach one day.

Andrew is taken aback, just by everything. Kieran is so different to how he remembers him. Christ, his voice alone. He seems a world away from who he'd known. 

"So," Kieran says after a while, the night getting later and later, the lights low now, the pub almost empty aside from a few stragglers. He's sitting close to Andrew, their knees touching under the table, and Andrew hasn't felt so comfortable with another person in God knows how long. "You excited? Getting married? Becoming a dad?"

There goes a pinprick of Andrew's comfort. He shifts, eyes casting to the inside of his near empty beer glass. His lips turn up at the corners, but the smile seems painted on, "Yeah. I mean, it wasn't... it wasn't planned. Having a baby at eighteen, I mean. It's a big deal, but... it's good. More than good."

Something in Kieran can tell that there's something off about Andrew's answer, but he doesn't question him. Maybe it's not even his place to. Not now, at least. He's just there to be a supportive cousin, see him on his way.

Leaning across the table, Kieran places a hand on Andrew's forearm, squeezing gently, drawing him to meet his eye. Andrew looks so soft in the low light, the light stubble on his cheeks showing how he's aged since they last saw each other. Kieran smiles, "I'm happy for you, cuz. Taking on the family business, doing all that physical work. I mean, I could never."

Andrew lets out a small chuckle, rolls his eyes a little, "Yeah, I know. I mean, I am an Adonis. Other men just can't keep up with these muscles."

He flexes the little muscle that he does have. He still has a bit of baby fat from youth, but he's obviously stronger whereas Kieran is leaner, more of a runner than a lifter like Andrew is.

"Christ, I don't want you to get too full of yourself," Kieran laughs, squeezing Andrew's arm again before pulling his hand away. Andrew feels a little lost without it. Taking a sip of his beer, Kieran watches as Andrew laughs and ducks his head, runs a hand over his stubbled jaw. Kieran puts his drink down, places a hand on Andrew's knee this time, drawing his attention back towards him, leaning in a little closer. "Really, though. I'm proud of you. She's a lucky gal."

 _Oh._ Maybe things haven't changed that much. 

Andrew's lips part, but no words come out, eyes flickering across Kieran's face, down to the soft smile of his lips. He swallows, chest blooming with the same feeling he'd felt all those years ago, back on Kieran's bedroom floor.

He pulls away, guilt snapping him back to reality, phone buzzing in his pocket.

Kieran pulls back, returns to his drink, casual.

Maybe Andrew was reading too much into it. Maybe Kieran was just being friendly, a familial support. _Maybe._

He picks up his phone, shifts away in his chair, presses it to his ear, "Hey, Bernie."

\- - -

Andrew doesn't sleep much that night.

He sits awake, next to Bernie, who tosses and turns, trying to get comfortable on her belly.

The uneasiness settles in the center of his chest as he watches her doze off. She's so good. Better than he could ever be. She wants to be a police officer, was training to until she fell pregnant. He knows she can do it. Knows she's stronger than him.

Kieran is settled in the spare room. 

Andrew goes into the bathroom at one point, can hear Kieran moving on the creaky old bed through the wall. There's a pull in his gut, telling him to go inside. Just a friendly chat, have him help him calm his nerves about the wedding. Reassure him that they're just jitters.

He doesn't even know if Kieran is awake or not. He could be asleep. He used to toss and turn a lot when they were kids. He wonders if he still has dreams about it, the boat and the water. They haven't spoken about that in years.

Climbing back into his own bed, Andrew looks over at Bernie, sound asleep. He places a warm hand on her stomach, exhales. He falls asleep eventually.

\- - -

Eileen arrives in the morning, with her fancy man banker, and it causes quite a stir for the Kellys. 

Bernie stays out of their way, kisses Andrew goodbye as she goes to leave for the day to be with her family and her girl friends, preparing for her hen do. 

Andrew comes across Kieran on the beach, in a hoodie and jogging bottoms, having clearly just been on a run. 

It's the first time they've seen each other since the pub the night before.

Kieran smiles, greets him, and it's as if he didn't think anything of what had happened the night prior. 

Perhaps Andrew had been reading too far into it.

Andrew smiles, offers him a lift home.

\- - -

They eat breakfast in the garden, despite the chilly October air. At least it isn't raining. The wedding's tomorrow, after all.

"Your dad got anything crazy planned for tonight?" Kieran asks, biting into a piece of toast. He's freshly showered, hair still damp. His mother had been too busy arguing with Roisín about her boyfriend to even warn him that he'd catch his death if he went out in the cold with wet hair. 

"Christ if I know," Andrew says, reaching across to nick a mushroom off Kieran's plate. He chuckles as Kieran bats his hand away. "I hope not."

\- - -

The stag do is boring at first.

It starts off in the pub.

The only thing of note is Kieran being teased about how American he's become, Pádraig joking about it. A few of their old schoolmates call him a yank. 

He takes it on the chin, mostly, as Andrew drinks in silence and watches them. Occasionally they'll rag on him, joke about how Bernie's too much of a catch for him, how she wears the trousers in the relationship. 

Andrew isn't put off, just shakes his head and laughs.

It's only when one of their old mates says something that crosses the mark does Andrew's attention gets piqued.

It's directed at Kieran, a passing mention of his sexuality, teasing him, and Andrew, although not over-the-top, confronts him about it.

"I think you should apologise," he says to the friend, and Kieran tries to intervene, puts a hand on Andrew's back, tells him it's alright. He was only kidding, after all. Andrew isn't having it, he squares up to the bloke, chin tilted. "Go on, say sorry."

Their mate is a little confused, like he doesn't know what he's done wrong, but he isn't looking for trouble. He looks to Kieran, sheepishly, "Sorry, Kier. I was being a prick."

Kieran can't help but smile a little, touched that Andrew would stand up to someone for him, even a mate. He nods, "It's alright. No hard feelings."

The tension dies down, and Andrew's stance relaxes. He turns around when he feels Kieran's hand on his back again, sees the way he smiles at him, eyes warm, "You wanna go outside for a bit? Get some fresh air?"

Andrew nods.

\- - -

They sit on the hood of Andrew's car. Their teetotal mate is the designated driver, but he also happened to be the one Andrew had just confronted.

"I don't think Billy's gonna wanna give you a ride home now," Kieran laughs, hands dug in the pockets of his coat as he looks up to the stars. 

"Yeah, well," Andrew says, waving a dismissive hand. "Shouldn't have been such a twat."

There's a passing moment of silence as Andrew sits down next to him, their shoulders bumping, the noise from the pub quiet, the light not quite reaching where they are.

It's comforting, the cold air on their warm faces, the presence of each other.

"I missed you," Andrew speaks after a while, eyes fixed on Kieran's profile. "After you left, things were so different."

Kieran meets his eye in the dim light of the small car park, brows furrowed, expression soft. He inhales, takes in the sight of him. He's older. Handsome. A man. They both are. They're not children anymore. 

Kieran has seen so much, done so much to get away from there. Sometimes he feels so guilty for leaving Andrew behind.

"I'm sorry," Kieran says, voice soft as he pulls a hand out of his pocket, places it on Andrew's back. "I wanted to stay, but I couldn't. I had to... I had to try to forget."

Andrew feels sick. _About us?_ He wonders. _About what we did?_

Kieran can tell his words didn't come out right by the way Andrew looks down, scratches at the side of his face.

"Not you," Kieran clarifies, shifting closer, hand rubbing up Andrew's back, across his shoulders. _Christ, why does he do that?_ It drives Andrew mad. "Never you."

Perhaps subconsciously, Andrew leans in a little, shoulder connecting with Kieran's chest as Kieran hooks his arm tighter around him. He speaks, voice quiet, "I thought about you, you know? Every day. I tried not to, but I couldn't help it."

Kieran's grip loosens a little on Andrew's arm, and Andrew worries that he's said the wrong thing. Kieran looks away from him, thinking. He swallows, looks back at Andrew, meeting his eye again as Andrew turns his head to look at him.

"We spoke, though," Kieran says it with a hint of a question in his voice, like he's prying for what Andrew really means. _Thought about me how_ , is what he wants to ask. _Do you think about what we did? When we kissed?_ Is what he really wants to ask. He moves his other hand towards Andrew's leg, touches his knee, gentle. "I tried not to disconnect from you. I wanted to be there for you, as much as I could."

"I know," Andrew says, voice quiet, heart in his throat. He inhales shakily, eyes dragging down to Kieran's lips. _You're just drunk_ , he tells himself, although it's a lie. He's barely had two pints. He's thinking clearer than ever. "But you weren't here. I wanted you here... I wanted..."

"Andy," Kieran says, it sounding like a gentle warning, one that he doesn't even mean. It's as if he has to say it, as some sort of precaution, because he knows. He knows they shouldn't, that they can't do this.

"Please, Kier," Andrew whispers, their faces so close that their noses touch. It brings them both back to that first time, that first kiss. "Please."

Not another word is said.

Their lips meet, soft at first, timid, like they had done before, back in Kieran's bedroom.

Neither of them move much at first, but all of a sudden, they realise. They're not kids anymore. They're older, so much more different yet the same. They've been places, been with people, gotten experience. And now they were back where they belonged.

Andrew deepens the kiss, fingers meeting Kieran's cheeks, pulling him in, closer, firmer. 

Kieran kisses him back, his own hands grabbing onto Andrew's coat, like if he let go of him this wouldn't be real, that they'd be back in the pub, unspoken words between them, letting whatever had been brewing between them to simmer out.

Neither of them can remember kissing anyone with as much fever as this, with as much desperate need to be close..

Pulling away after a while, faces hot, catching their breaths, their foreheads crane together, and Andrew speaks, voice low, "Kier, where can we...?"

Kieran understands what he means completely. His hands move to Andrew's waist, the two of them rising to their feet, hips aligning, Kieran kissing him again, hungry.

"There's a shed," Kieran says, remembering the time they'd sat in there during a Christening party for one of their family friends, hiding out as kids whilst their parents drank in the pub. "Behind the pub."

Andrew looks up at him, slightly dazed, heat flushing his cheeks, "A shed?"

"We can't go home," Kieran reasons, grabbing onto Andrew's arms, surveying the area quickly. "C'mon, where else are we gonna go?"

Andrew swallows, grabs Kieran by the wrist, leans up to kiss him again, teeth grazing his bottom lip, "Come on, then."

\- - -

It's freezing in the shed, but it doesn't bother them.

Andrew pins him up against the door, pulls his coat off his shoulders before diving back in, hands mapping across the warm skin under his jumper.

Kieran is toned, far moreso than Andrew had expected, and Kieran hooks his arms over his shoulders as they kiss, lips parting, tongue dragging across Andrew's.

Andrew grunts into his mouth, hips rolling forward, and Kieran can feel that he's half-hard already, wanting. He can't say that he isn't far from that himself.

"Kier," Andrew breathes out when he feels Kieran's long fingers fiddling with his belt buckle. They pause for a moment, Andrew's forehead against Kieran's shoulder. 

Kieran worries that maybe he's going too fast. Maybe Andrew's realised how messed up this is.

It's only when Andrew nods and splays a hand over the front of Kieran's jeans does he realise he really wants this. Kieran lets out a low moan when he feels Andrew's knuckles brush against the hard outline of himself through his jeans, the material between them becoming unbearable.

Kieran takes Andrew into his palm, jeans pulled down slightly, runs a thumb along the underside of him, eliciting a groan from the back of Andrew's throat.

Andrew kisses him, his own fingers working on Kieran's zip, releasing him from the constraints of clothing. He's admittedly not as delicate as Kieran, not as experienced in that area, he supposes, but he's Andrew. He's all Kieran can think about, all he's wanted.

Andrew's thumb slides across the head of his him, and Kieran absolutely melts into his mouth, the nails on his free hand digging into Andrew's shoulder, under the hem of his t-shirt, enough to leave a mark.

\- - -

Pádraig finds them in the car park, sitting on top of the hood of Andrew's car, sharing a cigarette.

"Oi, you're too young to be smoking!" He shouts, laughing and obviously drunk by the looks of things.

Jumping up, Andrew flicks the cigarette to the ground, puts it out with his foot as his father approaches them, a rather bored looking Billy and a slightly tired looking Dermot in tow. He hadn't been there earlier. His presence sends a shiver of something off putting in both Andrew and Kieran, who step further apart as he approaches.

"He's old enough to get married, uncle Pádraig," Kieran forces a laugh, tries to seem as if nothing is out of the ordinary. It is, though. Of course it is. 

Andrew glances at him, brows furrowed, lips turned into a frown. The reminder of everything, of the situation he's in. The thought of what he'd just done. _Shit._

"Ah, why you got that face on for, boy?" Pádraig says, grabbing his son by the neck and pulling him into a tight side hug, his laughter filling the air as Andrew wriggles, a small smile on his face at his dad's drunk attempt at bonding. "You're getting married to a beautiful girl in the morning! And you'll have a wain soon. Living the dream, I say."

Billy stands sheepishly off to the side as Dermot observes the scene, his dark eyes meeting Kieran's for a brief moment, a smile on his lips. 

_God, he'd be a perfect priest_ , Kieran thinks. It's like he can see right into your soul.

"Come on, da," Andrew chuckles, squeezing his dad's arm as he pulls away. "We better get you home. Mam'll lose her marbles when she sees you."

Andrew turns to Dermot and is hit with that uneasy feeling again. Swallowing it down, he nods to him, "Dermot. Good to see you. You'll be at the wedding tomorrow, I take it?"

"Yes," Dermot says, still smiling. It's creepy. "I'll be observing as part of my training."

"Grand," Andrew throws up his eyebrows with a fake smile before leading his dad to the backdoor of the car, not making eye contact with Kieran on the way.

Kieran swallows. He wants to say something to Andrew. He should. They should talk about what had happened. He just can't. Not now. Maybe later, back at home.

Kieran sits in the back with Pádraig. Andrew takes the front seat as Billy drives.

Kieran looks up at the overhead mirror. Andrew doesn't.

\- - -

When Pádraig is finally put to bed, Roisín chastising him the whole way, the house is quiet.

Kieran finds Andrew in the kitchen, drinking from a pint glass of water and standing at the kitchen sink. He watches him for a moment before knocking lightly on the door frame.

Turning, Andrew lowers the glass from his lips, eyes a little wide as he stares at Kieran, wordless, the air heavy.

"Re-hydrating, huh?" Kieran asks, leaning against the door frame still. He's dressed in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms, ready for bed. 

Andrew is still wearing what he'd had on out. He suddenly feels overdressed. Nodding, he turns away from Kieran, twisting off the dripping tap of the sink, "Yeah well, I better sober up."

Kieran inhales, brows knitting together slightly. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, ponders if he should approach Andrew, breach the subject. He wants to. There's a pull in his gut telling him to go to him again, to touch his back, let his fingertips touch the nail marks he most definitely left on his shoulder.

He doesn't, though. He just tilts his head up, swallows back the feeling of discomfort. He doesn't force a smile, but he doesn't cry either. He just speaks, tone neutral, but Andrew can hear the sadness. That unspoken thing lingering between them, "Well, I guess we both had a little too much then."

Andrew's fingers brace the sink, his shoulders rising. He can feel the sting of where Kieran's nails had been. He lowers his head, exhales, "Yeah, I suppose so."

There's a pause, and Andrew hopes for a moment that Kieran approaches him, that he says something, that he reaches out to him.

Instead, he gets a cold response, "Goodnight, Andy."

Andrew's shoulders sink, "G'night, Kier."

\- - -

He can't stop thinking about it. Over and over in his head.

The extra glass of whiskey he sneaks in before getting into bed helps dull the thoughts down a bit, gets him a few hours of sleep, but all he dreams about is what had happened. 

He wakes up on the morning of his wedding, and the first thought in his head is of Kieran.

He can't face him. Can't bring himself to look him in the eye. He wishes briefly that Kieran had never come back from America, that he'd stayed because of school, or that he'd brought home a boyfriend so he'd be distracted by him and pay Andrew no attention.

But then he thinks that maybe he would be fixated on that guy instead. That he'd be burning with jealousy every time he saw Kieran and him together.

He has to stop. 

He smacks himself in the temple, hisses in pain when his ears ring in response. Christ, he's an idiot.

His mum calls him down for breakfast at around seven. The wedding's at noon. Five hours. _Shit._

Dragging himself out of bed, his heart immediately drops to the pit of his stomach. He doesn't even know if he can handle breakfast. He can't even handle walking down the stairs and facing Kieran at the moment.

Surprisingly, Kieran is nowhere to be seen.

Instead, he finds his mum, dad and gran, all eating breakfast. 

"Where's Kieran?" He asks, stepping into the kitchen.

"Oh, no hello to your granny then," Roisín tuts, shaking her head as she eats. "Sorry about my horrible son, mammy."

Agnes laughs, waves a dismissive hand, "Oh, it's alright. The boy's probably just nervous about his big day. You can't blame him!"

Shaking himself out of it, Andrew turns to his gran, smiles as she gets up and they meet in the middle for a hug, "It's good to have you, gran."

He can't help but notice the absence of Kieran's coat on the rack when he looks over his gran's head. 

\- - -

He's fiddling with his cuff links, stood in his bedroom, sloppily dressed and trying to concentrate.

"Need a hand?" Kieran's voice.

_Shit._

Andrew turns to the door, wide eyed, taken aback by his presence. He'd been AWOL all morning. He hasn't seen him since last night, and now he's here, dressed in a deep maroon suit, hair combed and looking... far too perfect. 

Kieran gestures towards his own sleeve, his own cuff link perfectly in place, and Andrew is snapped back to reality.

"Oh," Andrew laughs softly, ducking his head, looking at his own poor handy work. "I'm in a bit of a state at the moment, I'm afraid."

Kieran wants to say, _"We both are"_ , but he doesn't.

Instead, he crosses the room, letting the door swing behind him, not hard enough to close fully, but enough for privacy.

"Only natural to be nervous," Kieran reasons, stopping in front of Andrew, noticing that his eyes shift away when he gets too close. Softening his approach, Kieran slowly takes one of Andrew's sleeves, tugs on it gently until Andrew raises his wrist and lets him tidy him up. Kieran laughs when he sees the silver links. "Four leaf clovers? Could this family be anymore stereotypical?"

"I suppose yours'll be American flags," Andrew jokes, watching as Kieran's fingers smooth out his sleeve and put the cuff link in properly. "Or hamburgers. Or guns."

"Just let me get you looking semi-decent before you start with the Yank jokes," Kieran lightly chastises, still obviously joking. He picks up Andrew's other wrist, fingertips brushing the skin of it ever so lightly. "Can't have Bernie running a mile when she sees you with your shirt untucked and hair looking like a mop, can we?"

Andrew's smile fades, his fingers tensing as Kieran gets to work on his other cuff. Blinking at Kieran, brow serious, he takes in the lines of his face, the slope of his nose and the way his eyelashes look against his cheek. Andrew swallows, thoughts of what had happened the night before flooding his brain once again. Kieran's lips and hands and the warm weight of him pressed against him. 

_Shit._

"Am I doing the right thing?" Andrew just blurts it out, cutting through Kieran's cool exterior in one blow.

Hands stilling, Kieran pauses for a moment, lashes blinking against his cheek. He tilts his head up, eyes meeting Andrew's own, lips parted as if he's about to say something, but is still considering, weighing the options. He straightens up, chin high, exhales, smiles again, "Of course you are. Bernie loves you, you love her. What else is there to it?"

Andrew's fingers circle Kieran's wrist, holding him in place when he tries to step back. They meet eyes again, and Andrew's are so big, so blue and starting to prick with tears.

 _Shit_ , Kieran thinks. _Shit._

"You know what else there is, Kier," Andrew whispers, his other hand moving up, fingertips pressed to Kieran's cheek. He rubs a thumb across his cheek, watches as Kieran's bottom lip quakes ever so lightly. 

"We can't," Kieran exhales, face ducking, eyes cast to Andrew's bedroom carpet. They'd sat there together so many times over the years, since they were little. He swallows. "It's better if it ends. Sooner, rather than later."

Choking back the threat of a sob, Andrew chews the inside of his cheek, a tear rolling down his face. He lets go of Kieran's cheek, of his wrist. He knows Kieran is right. Whatever this is, it can't happen. Not now, not ever.

"I'm sorry," Andrew says, voice soft.

"Me too," Kieran exhales, a small, sad smile on his lips.

\- - - 

"My flight leaves first thing," Kieran tells him when they're sat on the steps of the hall they'd rented out for the wedding after party.

Rock The Boat is blasting from inside and most of the Kellys are partaking in the festivities.

Not Andrew. Andrew feels sick, smoking a cigarette he doesn't even like the taste of. Only because it'd been between Kieran's lips.

He looks at Kieran, "I could drive you to the airport."

"Probably not for the best," Kieran says.

\- - -

They don't see each other for nearly five years.

Kieran sends a birthday card for the baby when she's born. 

They settle on the name Ardeen. 

Andrew loves her. Thinks the world of her. Even carries her around in one of those baby slings you strap to your front.

Bernie starts to train to become a police officer. He's proud of her, he really is. He loves her, he does. He wouldn't have married her if he didn't. 

He finds himself scrolling through Kieran's Facebook profile sometimes. They speak occasionally, sending the odd message. _Congratulations on the baby. On passing exams. Happy nineteenth. Happy twentieth. Good luck on the job interview._

Bernie is a full fledged copper by the time she's twenty four, and Andrew is working on the fields, hauling scrap and doing work that keeps his hands busy and mind occupied.

A notification pops up one day. Kieran's in a relationship. Some guy called Teddy.

"Aw, have you seen this picture of your Kieran and his new fella?" Bernie asks, the two of them sat on a park bench, watching as a four year old Ardeen runs around the playground. "He looks really sweet."

Of course he's seen it. He looked through Teddy's Facebook for almost an hour when he first saw it. 

He pretends not to be that bothered, shrugs, "Yeah. It's good he's found someone."

Bernie rolls her eyes at Andrew's nonchalant response, "Yeah. Good to know romance is still alive and well."

\- - -

"Now, are you sure you don't mind me going?" Andrew says for what must be the hundredth time that week.

"Yes, for the thousandth bloody time, I don't mind!" Bernie reiterates, gelling down her hair that's scraped into a tight bun. She's got her uniform on and honestly just wants to get out the door. Andrew's been insufferable this past week or so. "He's your cousin and he's graduating, of course you can go see him. Me and Ardeen will be fine."

Grabbing her from behind, Andrew presses a kiss to her temple, a move that she struggles against for a moment before giving in, a small smile playing on her lips, "Thank you, sweetheart. You're a star!"

Bernie laughs, squeezing her husband's forearm as he embraces her, "I know I am. Say hello to Kieran from me, alright? And bring me back something good from Vegas. Nothing filthy."

\- - -

Kieran is somehow even more different when Andrew sees him, standing in the hotel lobby. He looks like something out of The Great Gatsby. It's the only way Andrew knows how to describe him, it seems. Comparing him to literature characters from books he's never read but Kieran probably has.

Sunglasses on his face, hair combed, a green cardigan over a white button up shirt. Andrew feels under-dressed in comparison, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and coat from Asda.

Kieran greets him with a bright, white smile, welcomes him with open arms and it's like they hadn't gone years without seeing each other. It felt like they were just old buddies, catching up over the weekend.

Andrew takes a second to respond, chuckling as he hugs him, "It's good to see you."

"Glad you could make it," Kieran grins, pulling back and holding onto his shoulders, looking at him from over the rim of his sunglasses. "Long time, no see."

\- - -

The past is the past.

Andrew reminds himself of this when they're sitting in a casino, sipping on some overly fruity flavoured cocktails. Andrew definitely feels under-dressed. He'd changed into something a bit smarter, a blazer and darker jeans, but in comparison to the people around him, he's as casual as they come.

Kieran isn't betting much, but he's playing. He's talking about his student loans and how he's hoping his new job will help pay them off sooner rather than later.

Andrew finds himself staring, in awe of how mature and well adjusted he is, considering... well, considering everything that had happened between them.

That was almost six years ago, now. A lifetime ago, really.

When the game is over, they're eating dinner at some swanky restaurant. The lights outside are blinding almost, such a stark contrast to the low pollution, open air of Redwater, and yet Andrew feels comfortable, relaxed.

"So, who else is coming to your graduation, besides your mam, I mean?" Andrew asks, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Maybe he should have gotten a trim before he came over. Bernie had said he looked a bit shaggy. 

"A few buddies," Kieran says, twirling spaghetti on his fork. He puts it in his mouth, tilts his head, looks at Andrew. He looks the same, just more mature. His stubble is thicker for sure. Kieran swallows. 

Andrew looks at his plate, pushes a scallop aside, "What about that Teddy fella? Bernie showed me a picture off Facebook. Looks like a grand bloke."

Kieran shifts, glancing down at his own plate, smiles gently, "Yeah, uh. He broke up with me, actually. Few days ago."

Andrew looks up, eyes a little wider. He clears his throat, shifts, "Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Kieran laughs, looking back up, meeting Andrew's eye. "He was an asshole."

Andrew chuckles, "I mean, he is American."

"Oh, this again?" Kieran laughs, eyes creasing at the corners. "You've gotten really prejudice, you know that, Andy?"

Andrew smiles, ducks his head, chest blooming with warmth.

\- - -

Their hotel rooms are adjoined.

Andrew can hear Kieran through the wall the first night, tossing and turning.

He supposes he still dreams of it sometimes.

He wonders if he should go in there, make sure he's alright.

He doesn't.

\- - -

The second day is Kieran's graduation. 

Eileen is proud, blubbering away. She pulls Andrew into a hug and makes an offhanded comment about how Andrew's the only Kelly who bothered to come. Andrew says that Kieran paid for his flight. Eileen smiles sweetly, tells him that it doesn't surprise her. Kieran's always thought the world of him, after all.

Andrew feels a little left out among Kieran's friends, so he ends up strolling the streets with Eileen, until the night comes and he's back at the hotel room.

Kieran calls out to him when he arrives and Andrew follows his voice to his room, sees him laid out on the bed, dressed in one of the hotel robes.

Andrew swallows, eyes casting over his long limbs, the slither of skin of his chest, his calves stretched out, a forearm over his eyes.

Clearing his throat to denote his presence, Andrew speaks, "Celebrated too hard, have we?"

"Ugh," Kieran removes his arm from his eye line, sits back on his elbows and looks up at Andrew. "I wish. The bar we rented out got flooded. Everyone went home."

He blinks at Andrew in the dim light for a moment, before shuffling across the bed to turn the lamp on, flooding the room in a little more light.

Andrew can see him properly now, hair slightly damp from a shower, the scene of aftershave in the air. It smells like the one he'd worn back when they were eighteen, on Andrew's wedding day.

"I could..." Andrew shifts on his feet. "We could celebrate here. Have a mini party."

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Kieran's brows raise, a little surprised by Andrew's offer, "Oh? Okay. That sounds fun, actually."

Andrew smiles, stepping into the room, eyes dragging down Kieran's torso. He feels overdressed now. Swallowing, he shifts on his feet, "I, uh. I'll get changed yeah?"

Kieran's gaze shifts across Andrew and his fingers touch the collar of his own robe, subconsciously, perhaps. He chuckles, tries to deflect, "Oh, like a slumber party? Didn't realise we were teenage girls, Andy."

"It's a sleepover, you yanky tit," Andrew laughs, stepping towards the door between their rooms. "And don't worry, I'll be in normal pajamas. Not a bra and knickers."

Kieran scrunches his nose up, "What do you think happens at a slumber party?"

Andrew laughs, closing the door behind him.

\- - -

They've raided the minibar. Andrew was apprehensive at first, talking about the cost, but Kieran had insisted it was alright.

They're not drunk, just hazy around the edges, laying on Kieran's bed with the TV on, playing some old French film neither of them can understand.

Well, Kieran can understand some of it. He translates a few scenes and inserts his own commentary where he sees fit, making Andrew laugh, head back and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

It's as if nothing had changed. As if they hadn't left their last encounter feeling cold and distant. Instead, they're warm, sitting side by side, Kieran still in his robe, Andrew in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms.

The credits of the film bathe the room in a dim glow, and Kieran has his head propped up on pillows, Andrew a bit more sunken down, vertical.

Kieran smiles down at him, eyes half lidded, watching the way Andrew's eyelashes blink languidly against his cheek.

They don't say much now, just lay there, the sound of the movie and their dying down laughter hanging in the air.

Andrew doesn't know why he rolls over slightly, looks up at Kieran with such soft, inviting eyes, but he does. 

Kieran doesn't know why he reaches a hand down, brushes his knuckles lightly across Andrew's cheek, the stubble there soft against his skin.

Neither of them know why they shift closer, why Andrew sits up as Kieran leans down, why Andrew's hand finds the back of Kieran's neck, why their lips press together as they meet in the middle.

They should stop this. They know they should, but they don't.

Andrew is on top of him, Kieran's hands under his t-shirt, mapping across his warm skin. 

Kieran has his legs hooked around Andrew's waist, his mouth open to Andrew's tongue, his head craned back as Andrew threads his fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck.

Layers come away, Andrew's shirt tossed to the floor, Kieran's robe splayed open, tanned, toned skin beneath.

Andrew's stubble tickles Kieran's chest, his stomach and the strip of skin above his boxers.

Kieran gazes down at him, fingers pressing into his too long dark hair. 

Andrew looks up at him from beneath dark lashes, a silent question.

Kieran nods.

Andrew isn't exactly experienced in this, but the low moan that leaves Kieran's throat is indication that he's at least good at it, mouth warm as it sinks over him.

Kieran's blunt nails scrape over his scalp, and Andrew bobs his head down, further. He feels so full, content. He could do this for hours, probably. If Kieran let him.

He has to come back up for air, kisses Kieran again, Kieran pulling him in, hungry.

They're both undressed now, Andrew's hips rolling against Kieran's, eliciting grunts from them both, pressed together.

Kieran hooks a leg around him again, pulling him closer, mouth hot against Andrew's ear as he whispers, "The drawer. There's..."

It takes a moment for Andrew to realise what he means, and a wave of heat floods over him. 

Blinking down at him, Andrew stops for a second, but then Kieran meets his eye and speaks again, "It's alright. I'll show you."

Andrew exhales, biting the inside of his lip. He nods, reaching over to the bedside drawer.

Kieran's eyes roll back when he feels Andrew's fingers, slick and pressed inside him, his own hand gripping Andrew's wrist, guiding him along the way.

It's enough alone, seeing Kieran's back arch, the noises that leave him. Andrew has to keep himself grounded, refrain from touching himself until Kieran is ready.

The groan that leaves him is louder than he'd expected, cheeks red hot as he aligns his hips, pushing inside.

Kieran kisses him, arms hooked over his shoulders, legs around his waist, encouraging him.

Andrew can't remember the last time he felt so close to someone.

The heat builds up as he rocks his hips, Kieran groaning into his skin, mouth pressed to his shoulder.

The press of Andrew inside him, the curl of his fingers around his cock, it isn't long until Kieran is moaning Andrew's name, spilling over his knuckles and skin.

Andrew finds himself following shortly after, hips still against Kieran, pressed inside him, fingertips bruising his skin.

Kieran kisses him again, softer, gentle, hands on his cheeks.

Andrew melts against him, envelopes his body with his own.

\- - -

They don't talk about it. 

There's no, _'We cant'_. There's no discussion of how it was wrong, how they shouldn't do it again.

They have a few more days in Vegas.

They go out, they see the lights and eat and gamble occasionally.

Kieran takes him into his mouth, Andrew's back pressed against the stall wall of a fancy bathroom in the casino. Andrew's fingers curl into his hair.

Andrew kisses him on his bed, sleeps next to him, bare skin against skin. 

They spend one day fully in the hotel room, watching movies, ordering room service, making out and rutting against each other like two desperate teenagers.

On the last day, Andrew wakes up, a little hungover from the two of them going too hard in the hotel bar the night before.

His phone buzzes, and when he blinks at it blearily in the darkness, he sees _their_ faces. Bernie. Ardeen.

His stomach drops. 

Kieran finds him in the bathroom, bent over the toilet, dry heaving. He exhales, chuckles a little, "Told you those shots were too much."

Andrew doesn't respond, just leans against the toilet seat, forehead pressed to his forearm, shoulders moving slowly as he breathes.

An uneasy feeling washes over Kieran. It reminds him of back then, on the steps outside of Andrew's wedding party. He pushes it down, crosses the room, goes to place a hand on Andrew's back.

Andrew jerks away, sitting up suddenly, brows furrowed, unimpressed.

 _Not again_ , Kieran thinks.

"I need to pack," Andrew says, struggling to get to his feet, legs a little wobbly.

Kieran steps forward, tries to hold onto him to balance him.

Andrew shoves him away, harder than he meant to, "Just leave it! I'm fine."

Kieran's throat feels tight, tears pricking his eyes. He hates this. Exhaling, he shakes his head, jaw tight, "I can't do this, Andrew. Not again."

"Do what?!" Andrew exclaims, shaking his head as he steps back, holding his hands out to the sides as if to say: _Are you an idiot?!_ Kieran wants to punch him. "What exactly is it that we're doing, Kier?"

"Why don't you tell me?!" Kieran's voice rises, anger bubbling away in the pit of his stomach. He forces back the tears. He won't do this again. He refuses. 

Andrew blinks at him, jaw clenched, fists balled at his sides. He exhales, shoulders relaxing a little, voice lower but still serious, "Us. This. It's not right, Kieran. It's not right."

"Then why did you come here?" Kieran spits out, a little aggressive, maybe. 

Andrew tries to act innocent, because of course he does. He's scared. Kieran knows that he's terrified because he is too, "You invited me here. You invited me into your room."

"Oh," Kieran can't help but laugh at the absurdity. The deflection. The shifting of blame. "Oh, and I guess I forced you to kiss me, did I?"

Andrew swallows, cheek twitching, jaw tight, "You got me drunk."

 _There it is._ Kieran feels like he's been punched in the center of the chest. He can't stop the tear that escapes him, voice quiet as he speaks, shaky, "You and I both know that isn't true."

Andrew feels sick. _He knows._ He knows it isn't true at all, but he can't bring himself to admit it. He can't bring himself to say that Kieran is right. That he'd wanted it as much as Kieran did.

"I have to go," is what Andrew says, ever the coward. He shoulders by Kieran, and Kieran doesn't even try to stop him. "I've got a wife and a daughter, Kier. I have to go be with them."

Kieran doesn't say anything, just watches as Andrew leaves.

He crumbles into a heap when he's gone.

He can't keep doing this. It's over. It has to be.

\- - -

Andrew and Bernie have another child. A boy.

Kieran doesn't message him, doesn't say a damn thing.

Bernie asks Andrew how Kieran is, if he's heard from him. Andrew avoids her questions.

He thinks about him a lot, the guilt eating away inside of him. He should have said something else. He should have been kinder.

There's nights when he dreams about him and wakes up to the sight of Bernie and he feels like he's being torn apart.

It gets a little easier. When the years pile up and he hasn't spoken to him for longer and longer.

It's probably for the best.

\- - -

They see each other again, when Andrew is thirty.

It's at a family gathering, Roisín's fiftieth birthday.

Eileen is there and so is Kieran, alongside his new boyfriend.

Kieran doesn't speak to Andrew. Andrew doesn't speak to him.

\- - -

Kieran is there for longer than he'd anticipated.

Andrew extends an olive branch a few days after Roisín's birthday, on the Saturday where they're actually supposed to be celebrating.

He offers Andrew a drink, the two of them in the spare room/office/kids play room upstairs. Kieran had gone there to clear his mind, the Kelly family proving too much for his psyche to handle right now.

The rest of the family are downstairs. They can hear their voices, hear Ardeen being chased around by her little brother, can hear their mothers arguing.

Kieran takes the drink, sips it, looks up at Andrew, "What you said, back in Vegas. You shouldn't have said it."

Andrew swallows, heart in his throat, "I know. I'm sorry."

\- - - 

Kieran is going to leave again.

His boyfriend is downstairs, getting along with the rest of the family.

Andrew approaches him. Funny, that. He's the one chasing, after telling Kieran to stay away all those years ago.

He touches Kieran's shoulder and Kieran stiffens for a moment, before turning around.

They don't say anything, they just look at each other.

Everything, all the years between them, the fights, the not being able to keep their hands off each other. The going around in circles.

"I'm sorry," Kieran says, and it catches Andrew off guard.

"For what?" Andrew asks, eyes soft, brow furrowed. 

"I'm sorry about whatever it is between us... this thing," Kieran sighs, eyes flickering down to the floorboards. He flinches a little when he feels Andrew's fingers circling his wrist, pulling him closer. 

Andrew wraps his arms around him, feels Kieran's body, warm as it relaxes against him, arms circling his back.

He presses his nose to Kieran's shoulder, inhales. Still the same aftershave.

The sound of Roisín and Eileen yelling at each other fills the air suddenly, and Kieran pulls away, but not before he feels Andrew's lips, soft as they press against his cheek.

"I'm sorry, too," Andrew says, thumb stroking across Kieran's pulse point in his wrist.

\- - - 

Years pass again.

It gets easier.

Kinder.

Kieran almost forgets about Redwater. He can even step into the ocean now, feel the sand on his feet in Malibu.

He still thinks of Andrew. It's only natural, but he knows. He knows things are different. He can't go back to it. They can't go back.

It's a melancholy feeling, being away from him. 

He wonders if Andrew thinks of him too.

\- - - 

"I think it's time, Kier," Eileen says one day. 

Kieran is almost thirty five. He's got a good job, a social life. He has a rich life here, he's settled.

"I think we should go back," Eileen says, fingers twiddling the locket on her neck. "Your granny, she's not getting any younger, and the family... I miss them, Kier."

Kieran doesn't say anything at first, just sits there in the restaurant he's having his lunch break in. It was meant to be just a normal lunch with his mom, and then she started talking about home, about Redwater.

"You can always come back to New York," Eileen says, eyes soft. "It'll only be for a while."

Five years. Almost six, actually. Since he saw him. Since he said goodbye to Andrew.

Kieran exhales, nods, "Alright. If it's only for a little while."

x x x

**Author's Note:**

> it's 2020 and i cannot stop thinking about these canon incestuous disasters.
> 
> shout out to ivett aka isabellaofparma on tumblr. always bringing me back to these two, and also for reading some of this before it was published. love you, angel. x


End file.
